We Probably Have Bigger Problems
by rulemakerheartbreaker
Summary: Deaton takes in a friends daughter to show her the ropes on becoming an Emissary. Set during season 3. AU.
1. Introduction

**Authors Notes:/ This is a drabble from a fanfiction I started before Season 3 even started. I figured it wouldn't hurt to post it and see if there was any interest. I figured this is just enough for an introduction. **

**I, of course, do not own anything related to Teen Wolf. **

**Reviews are adored. Please and thank you. :3**

There was an unexpected silence in the heart of the forest that Rachel had disappeared into. Even the usual pitter patter of her footsteps had been absorbed by the damp ground. Normally she wouldn't have been fazed, the oddities of nature were something she'd grown used to, but something was off. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" It was the first time the silence had been broken in what felt like hours but Rachel wasn't particularly fond of the noise nor the thing that had produced it. The man who'd appeared took a step forward, his teeth gleaming showily as he smiled. "Didn't your mommy ever tell you that it's dangerous for pretty girls to run around in a forest full of wolves?"

"Planning on eating my grandmother, too?" She questioned, refusing to step away when he began bridging the gap between them. If she'd learned anything from her father it was that most predators liked the chase more than the meal.

"That depends." He chuckled, "Is she a hot grandma?"

"Only if you're into corpses." Rachel had managed to keep her breathing even, her eyes never leaving his as he rocked back and forth on his heels in amusement.

"You know, most teenage girls aren't this calm about meeting strangers so far away from home." The sound of a frantic heartbeat gave away what her face wouldn't; she was scared. Paralyzingly so but she kept her cool well enough to be entertaining and he liked that… he liked her. The way her veins pulsed so visibly beneath her ivory skin, or the way her bottom lip was stuck in a perpetual state of poutiness, but more than anything he liked the way she blindly hated him. It was instinct and it was powerful. "You'd be a valuable asset and a pretty trinket even if you weren't."

Civilization wasn't within screaming distance and even if her voice managed to carry that far chances were she'd be dead before it could do any good. Deaton had known more than he'd told her when he asked for her to stay in town. "Well, if we're done here..."

"We aren't."

"Yes. You are." From somewhere even deeper within the depths of Beacon Hills another man had emerged, younger but just as entitled. Rachel's eyes widened as they made contact with his and she quickly beckoned for his assistance with a less than casual head jerk. Hands in the pockets of his worn jeans he crossed the invisible line that had been drawn, safely inserting himself between her and the threat. "Now why don't you leave voluntarily so I don't have to make you."

The standoff seemed reminiscent of an old western movie but Rachel kept tight lipped for the duration of it, moving only when she was pushed back farther behind the newcomer. For a moment the older man seemed to contemplate whether or not the cause was worth a fight but ultimately decided against it. "I'll see you around, Riding Hood." He breathed, throwing a wink her way before slinking back between the trees and out of sight.

Taking a moment to relax she regained function of her motor skills, attempting to thank her savior before hightailing it back to the Doc but instead of the pleasant thank you she'd been planning all Rachel managed was a "Tha-" before being forcibly shoved towards town. "Jesus, I'm going." She exclaimed, smirking a bit when she realized that he was trailing just slightly behind. "I'm Rachel, by the way."

"Yeah?" He questioned. "Well your name should be 'Idiot who's going to get herself killed'."

Rachel laughed. "Yeah, but that would be a lot harder to remember."


	2. Just a Stranger at the Table

**Authors Notes:/ The last chapter was just an introduction to peak interest. Here's an actual chapter.. just in case someone is actually reading. **

**Again, I do not own anything Teen Wolf. I simply extort the characters for my own selfish needs.**

**Reviews are loved. Even if it's just a "Hey, keep going." or a "You don't suck, good job!"**

**O**utside of a first name and brief analysis Rachel was unsuccessful at getting any worthwhile information from the man called Derek. Their limited time together had managed to leave a sour taste in her mouth and from the obvious discomfort small talk brought him it was safe to assume that he wasn't exactly swimming in friend request. Where Derek lacked in basic conversational skills, he excelled in the art of degrading others which started somewhere between their introduction and the mentioning of Scott. "I should have known." He'd grumbled, like some grand mystery had been solved. No normal girl in their right mind would have been that deep in the forest alone so being in cohorts with Scott made sense. Luckily the walk back to town had been a relatively short one and Rachel had somehow managed to escape with just two lectures about being a complete idiot. The experience had been rather unpleasant over all but for some reason that hadn't been enough to make her dislike him. After all, he had saved her ass.

"Derek?" Scott gaped, quirking an eyebrow at the girl beside him to test her inquires.

"Yeah. What do you know about him?" she repeated.

Scott shook his head in protest before responding. "He isn't someone you want to get involved with." The look on Rachel's face told him that his answer hadn't quenched whatever thirst she had for knowledge on Derek but for the time being she just shrugged, the action doubling as a way of readjusting the unfamiliar bag weighing heavily on her shoulder. "You could put some of your books in the locker, you know."

"But then I'd have to go back to it between every class." She enlightened, cocking her head to the side as he sighed in defeat.

"I never said it was perfect but it's better than getting a hernia on your first day." He should have known better than to suggest it to begin with. If Scott had managed to pick up anything about Rachel in the past couple of days it was that she wasn't one for taking other people's recommendations.

Sliding the strap down her arm and into her hand she grinned, "Orr you could just carry them for me." Deaton had managed to work it out with the new principal a few weeks before Rachel's arrival so that her and Scott's schedules were nearly identical. It was his attempt at keeping her under surveillance 24/7, as if having Ms. Morrell there wasn't enough. "I mean, the Doc's already assigned you as my personal watch dog. And since I can't use you for information I might as well get some kind of use out of you."

"Fine, but this is just a first day of school kind of thing. You know that, right?" He insisted but Rachel just smiled before waving a hand and rounding the corner to their first class.

By lunch every ounce of pride she'd woken up with had been stripped away by minimum wage, pencil pushers. No one had any patients for the new girl; no one wanted to explain why you had to ask to use the restroom, or why it was mandatory to sit by the kid with the noticeable sweat stains and even bigger dandruff problem. Everyone just anticipated that she knew the basics but the truth was that homeschooling had turned her into an alien when it came to the hallowed halls of Beacon Hills High. On top of all that they were being force-fed slop that didn't look fit to nourish a pen of pigs let alone a high maintenance vegetarian. "Too good for school lunch?" Scott joked, dropping down into the empty space next to her with a plastic fork dangling between his lips.

"I'm pretty sure the lettuce is made of meat." She insisted, picking up a piece of the limp brown foliage between her fingers in disdain.

"No." Scott countered. "Isaac would probably eat it if it were."

"Eat what?" Asked an unfamiliar voice belonging to an equally unfamiliar yet stunningly striking young man. Human almost seemed to ordinary of a classification for him; Demi-God maybe? Regardless, the boy was beautiful.

Scott laughed, tossing a piece of the browning roughage at the newcomer with impressive reflexes and an obvious lack of standards towards sustenance. He smiled brightly at Rachel with a grin marred ever so slightly with specks of month old lettuce.

The girl nodded politely and opened her mouth to speak when the shriek of a very dissatisfied, fast moving blur of red hair pushed the words back into her mouth. "I have searched every library of law in the state of California for a legitimate regulation that prohibits a school from releasing student contact information to another student and there's NOTHING!" She made forceful eye contact with Scott and the demi-god, "I'm not crazy. They've at least got a contact email for his parents. People don't just disappear. They have to give me SOMETHING, right? What if he was responsible for half of a group assignment? Am I left to burden the entire project myself? As if I wouldn't be anyway," she shook her head briefly distracted by her own thoughts eyes landing questioningly on the wide eyed brunette across the table, "Who are you?"

Rachel exhaled sharply. "Me? I'm Rachel, I-"

"—I AM A GENIUS!" declared yet another buoyant display of Beach Hills fawn. Stiles.

She jumped, tipping herself just far enough out of the path of destruction led by the overzealous yet remarkably compact teenager. "I'm a genius. Do you know why? You know, besides being right about everything I've ever possibly been right about, which again, is pretty much everything." He boasted, eyes falling on the icy glare of the irritated redhead "I digress," he gathered himself, nestling into the ungenerous space between Rachel and Scott, "I've figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Scott questioned, dropping his fork back onto the tray as he struggled to make room for his best friend on their side of the table.

Stiles wasted no time as he stared back at the group, "Jackson!" he reminded them, "Come on guys! He's screwing with us. It's such a Jackson thing to do. Disappear for the summer right after _the incident_, cause a huge commotion, juuuust to show up out of nowhere and act like nothing ever happened." Taking a sip from the styrofoam cup in his hand he shrugged clearly pleased with his deduction despite everyone else's uncertainty.

"Then where is he, Stiles? Hm? It's the first day of school so where is this _grand entrance_?" The redhead snapped raising her hands in the air and wiggling her fingers to personify her sarcasm. "Jackson might be an ass sometimes, God I know it, but he isn't deranged enough to just up and leave without letting anyone know. Not without saying goodbye first." The end of her sentence fell to a whisper as she retreated back into her head, staying there until yet another stranger appeared to take up the last bit of space available.

"Here, these are the invitations that were sent out." She proclaimed, addressing the ginger with envelope in hand. "I know I didn't get a chance to run them by you but Danny seemed to like them."

Pursing her lips for a moment she concentrated on the curves and crooks of the font, tapping the corner of the deep purple parchment in what could have been perceived as disappointment before perking back to normal, "You really should make time to run things by me.. but I guess these get the job done. What matters is that **they're** out and **we** have everything we need for the party."

"Like.. a search party?" Rachel muttered, startling the members of the group who'd managed to phase the newcomer out. They'd just been discussing a missing person, it didn't exactly seem like a unrealistic jump but something about the laughter everyone seemed to be choking back told her she'd guessed wrong.

"No, like our first seasonal party of the year." Red explained, "I like to have themes. This year we're doing the solstices. You know, from the Latin word _solstitium—"_

_ "—_Sol meaning sun and stitium meaning '_to stop'_ due to the illusion that the sun is standing still. I know what the solstices are but the Summer solstice was back in June and the Winter solstice isn't until December. So what are we supposed to be celebrating?"

Rachel's surprisingly wide spread knowledge on the changing of seasons somehow managed to make up for her lack of social understanding but Red didn't seem completely convinced, "We're _celebrating_ the beginning of a new school year. The solstice was just a _theme._ One that wasn't nearly as well thought out or orchestrated as it should have been," She concluded, shooting a glare at the dark haired girl beside her as if to place blame, "but a theme nonetheless."

"You should come," Scott suggested, leaning across Stiles to invite her somewhat properly but it was obvious that Rachel wasn't sold on the idea. While she was certainly far from savage she was also far from being socially stable enough to handle her own in a crowd of presumably drunk teenagers and it didn't take long for Scott to put the pieces together. "Don't worry, we can make full use of the buddy system."

"But take this." Red slid the envelope across the table to her, "It's invitation only."


	3. There's Always a Calm

**Author's Notes:/ Just another reminder that I do not in fact own anything Teen Wolf, I just enjoy pushing the characters around and watching them dance. **

**Thanks for reading along so far. This story was fun to write. It's definitely a fluff piece for awhile and doesn't really focus too much on the action side of things. I apologize if that's what you came for. Stick around and you might actually get some. **

**J**ust like that she was in. Not just the group itself but the whole of Beacon Hills student populace because contrary to popular belief high school wasn't about good grades or securing your future, it was about girls like Lydia; girls like Lydia and everything they represented. High school was about doing everything that the generation above you wanted you not to do until you screw up enough times to become a cynical generation all your own. That's what Rachel learned during her first week at Beacon Hills High; not Calculus, Latin, or AP Literature like her schedule suggested. Instead she learned that the chairs in Chemistry were murder on the spine, that being the only Junior in a freshman gym class laughably labeled "Physical Development" wasn't considered _cool_ to anyone but the freshmen, and that an invitation to Lydia Martin's first seasonal party of the year earned you respect from strangers in the hallways that didn't even know your name.

And they wouldn't know her name for quite some time. At least not unless they asked her upfront and even then she'd probably have issues formulating a response. Verbalizing thoughts as quickly as she was processing information was almost impossible and there were more than a few times that she'd been scolded for eavesdropping; she preferred the term researching but nobody else seemed to. It was hard to know if she was supposed to listen to the voices of her children programs of old and just "be herself" or if changing was a necessity for survival. The people around her weren't concerned about their safety, they didn't know that the dangers consistently prowling around them went farther than getting hooked on drugs or arrested for underage drinking. No one had time to be concerned about anything other than what they were wearing for the weekend or who was cheating on who. Unfortunately life's deeper meanings would have to be put on hold because Lydia's party was approaching fast and Rachel had been brashly informed of a wardrobe malfunction she'd been previously unaware of.

"You're wearing THAT? To a Lydia Martin party?"

"How do you even know who Lydia Martin is?!"

"Everyone knows who Lydia Martin is!"

Life as a perpetual houseguest had proven to be unpleasant enough without Deaton's nephew consistently sticking his nose into everything. It had only been a week and Rachel had already caught him trying to scoop up her phone when she went to the shower. "Just go change into something less.. casual. This is—"

"—A Lydia Martin _excluuusivee."_ Rachel ooed, crossing her eyes and stomping up the stairs dramatically to get a real life "teen" feel for defiance. Normally no one had issues with Rachel's style choices, _normally_ she was perfectly accepted in her sweater and non-denim pants motifs but parties were different. Parties were the chance every girl and gay looked for to show the world how much attention they paid to Paris fashion week and why they were eventually going to _be somebody_ while everyone else from their hometowns rotted there. It took eight tries before Devin made a final decision on some floral print dress that he convinced her was a dead ringer of a design from some fashion house she couldn't pronounce properly. "If I had a dollar for every time you said Lydia Martin—"

"—You'd probably have enough money to buy real designer outfits instead of that cheap knockoff." Devin quipped, ignoring what was most likely an offended retort when he heard the doorbell chime. "That'd be your boyfriend!" he called out, leaping from the depths of her closet towards the door and down stairs. Boyfriend? She scoffed, "He's not my boyfriend!" She grasped her mouth. _Was that rude? Is it considered offensive to deny that someone's your boyfriend? But what if they actually aren't? _She came to when she heard the front door slam. _This is insane. WHEN did this become an issue?_

"You're date's here, Rachel!" Devin called running back up the stairs, he poked his head in, "And I fear you may be overdressed." He made a face before disappearing from the door frame, replaced with the dark haired, lazy grinned aforementioned not-boyfriend wearing a dirty Henley that clung to muscles Rachel didn't know a boy could have and worn in cargo shorts that revealed calves worthy of an Olympic runner.

"Hi." He offered smiling and for the first time Rachel noticed how curiously the bottom half of his face veered off, raising the temperature in the room far above anything the girl was comfortable with.

She waned, "Hey," she managed, painfully aware of how uncomfortable she looked in a dress. Especially THIS ostentatious flowery thing.

"You look great! For a hermit that is."

Her uneasy smile fell, _Hermit. So, that's what he thinks? I mean, it makes sense. Why am I offended? I am a hermit. Fuck._

The panic must have showed because the boy rushed over to stop her from reaching for her sweater. "Kidding. You really do look pretty." She smiled warmly. A familiar sense of the harmlessness she'd grown so fond of in their short time together echoed in his words. Friends. They were friends.

"Thanks." She blinked. What was he waiting for?_ Is it appropriate to tell him that he looks good too? What kind of signal would that send? Why is this so complicated? _She grimaced internally before sidestepping and compensating for the awkward moment she gestured towards the door. "We should go," she swallowed, forcing all the worry from her features, "to the party." And that they did.


	4. Before the Storm

**Author's Notes:/ Thanks to anyone who's actually reading along! **

**I still don't own anything Teen Wolf (despite my wishes). **

* * *

**A**s Scott's car screeched to a halt alongside the driveway of Lydia's gorgeous and already cram packed mansion Rachel came to the stomach churning realization that some things couldn't be prepared for. No matter how many pep talks she'd given herself in the bathroom mirror or soothing words Scott had relayed on the ride over nothing could untie the knot in her gut. "You ready?" he asked, turning to face the fidgeting girl in his passengers seat.

Clicking loose the seatbelt and leaning forward she smiled before muttering, "Nope." and sliding out onto the sidewalk. Devin's insistence upon pairing heels with her ensemble had originally been frowned upon but Rachel found that the sound of stilettos against cement was somewhat empowering and by the time they'd reached the front door she had managed to convince herself that she was a confident, capable human being.

"Finally decided to show up?" Lydia teased, holding out a drink for both of them as if she'd been eternally prepared for their arrival. Flashing a freshly bleached set of pearly whites she ushered them both into the chaos. "You know where everything is." She muttered to Scott before returning to her post as grand hostess of the house.

"Alcoholic?" Rachel half shouted holding up the glass she'd been handed.

"Yeah but you don't have to—" he started, waning off when she downed the drink in a few gulps.

"I hear it helps with nerves or whatever." She explained relaxing a bit when Scott followed suit. "Come on," grabbing his hand she pulled him farther into the bedlam, "I survived my first week of high school. I think that's grounds for celebration." Rachel had no idea what she was signing up for when she entered the crowd but she was smart enough to know what this party meant for her reputation and in high school reputation was the difference between being Lydia Martin or that weird guy Greenburg.

The music vibrated underneath their feet as they twist and turned through groups of no names who greeted them both like old friends. People liked Scott so people liked her, it was disgustingly simple. The flashing lights and abrasive conversation was almost disorienting but it only took a couple more drinks to set everything right side up again. In fact, the warming sensation of what she'd been told was called a "Lemon Drop" was the only thing that kept her sane when she lost Scott in the up tempo of a Britney Spears remix; Britney's popularity was seemingly the only thing that hadn't changed since the fourth grade. Safely distancing herself from the pool in the middle of the courtyard she quickly settled into her rightful place as a wallflower to observe. Allison had insisted that Lydia let her take over door patrol so that she could enjoy the party but unless the girl was directly addressing someone she almost seemed lost in her own home. Vodka wanted to ask, Rachel didn't.

"So what's your name!?" The voice was barely audible over the speakers but it was enough to snap Rachel back from wherever she'd disappeared.

"Whatever you want it to be." She answered but the dark-haired boy just laughed.

"I'm gay."

"That's great! I'm not. Not really my thing but I can see why a guy would be tempted in a place like Beacon Hills.. Oh God, did you think I was coming onto you?" Jumping back a bit she managed to avoid contact with the liquid sloshing from her cup.

"It's fine!" He assured, "I'm Danny." Danny, as she soon found out, was the residential goalie for Beach Hills High's lacrosse team and quite popular amongst their peers. Jocks usually landed that perk for their title alone but Danny seemed genuinely worthy of his mass popularity, not many people bothered with talking to the new kid after all. "So, you came with Scott, huh?"

Instantly she denied the accusation with a quick shake of her head, "Well, I mean yes. He drove me here. His boss is my legal guardian right now so I think he feels responsible for making sure I don't die or something."

Danny smiled and tipped his glass. "Well, you two look cute together. Besides, Scott could definitely use something to keep his mind off Allison. Our first game's in a couple of weeks and Coach will never let us hear the end of it if we lose because our star player is _love sick._"

Scott had mentioned Allison once or twice in passing conversation but Rachel had never managed to put two and two together. It made sense though, the way the two of them avoided eye contact at the lunch table or barely greeted each other in the halls. Like they were doing the bare minimum just to insure that things weren't too uncomfortable for everyone else. She was starting to realize that coming into a group that already had history was like starting a series on the second season, nothing made sense until someone else explained it. The truth was she didn't know much about anyone but Danny was doing well serving as her own personal Wikipedia so she decided to take advantage of it. "So, how long were they together?" she asked feeling instant regret for seeming outwardly curious about Scott's personal life but Danny didn't seem to think anything of it.

"Eh, on and off most of last year but a lot of weird stuff went down towards the beginning of summer and I guess they decided to call it quits. Between all of the _animal attacks_ around town and Allison's mom dying I don't really blame them. You'd be better off asking Stiles if you want actual details, I just get backhanded information from Lydia every now and then." He took a sip from his glass before focusing on something above Rachel's line of sight, "but speaking of brooding boys." Tilting his head to alert her of the new arrival he glided away letting his spot be filled by the Demi-god's nerve-wracking presence.

"You looked thirsty." He deducted holding out a glass for the girl to take, "_annnd _a little lost."

"Is it that obvious?" Rachel took the refreshment without hesitation though the floating sensation slowly working its way from her stomach out was a good indication that she probably shouldn't have.

The Demi-god just grinned accentuating his permanently flushed cheeks. "I'm just really observant." He admitted pushing Rachel back to keep her safe from the splash of someone who'd finally reached their '_jump in the pool'_ level of inebriation.

"Careful there, Superman. With reflexes like that people might start thinking you're superhuman." She teased, chuckling at the worry in his suddenly furrowed brow. "So what is your name anyways because I've just been referring to you as a demi-god and it's going to get embarrassing before too long." The look of concern morphed into amusement almost immediately, "Oop, I stand corrected. It's embarrassing now." She breathed, breaking eye contact to take another swig.

"It's Isaac." He amended, "but you can call me Demi-God if that's really what you're into." The white of his teeth contrasted brightly against the pink of his lip as he bit down softly on it and Rachel had to physically remove herself from the situation to regain composure.

"Isaac it is." She called back, sidestepping a collapsed teenager before slinking through the sliding glass doors and back into the foyer.


	5. Blame it on the Alcohol

**Author's Notes: Heey-o. Thanks for dropping in and reading my rambles about a couple of characters I created in a world I certainly did not. Things are gettin' spicy in Beacon Hills, as usual. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated but the views are cool, too. **

* * *

**M**ost everyone had migrated outside when the alcohol started setting in, something about large bodies of water called to those without inhibition, but a decent group of lingerers had stayed behind to request songs from the DJ. And that's when she noticed him, sitting smugly in a makeshift DJ booth, his iPad hooked to the speakers through one simple wire. Cup clinched tightly she pushed forward, shoving through pairs of teenagers as they attempted to slow dance to Charlie XCX in an excuse to slam their uncoordinated bodies together. "What are you doing here?" Rachel fumed, using her free hand to steady herself on the corner of the booth when she finally came to a halt.

"I'm DJ-ing, obviously."

"When did you learn how to DJ, Devin?"

"Last night." The boy shrugged, "I downloaded the app."

Rachel didn't have time for it. "I don't have time for this." She announced, "Whatever your real reason is for being here just try not to draw too much attention to yourself. It's a little suspicious for a grown man to be hanging around at teen parties."

"I am NINETEEN." He yelled after her watching as she waved a hand before disappearing towards the stairs.

Of course she only managed to make it mid-hallway before crashing tits first into Allison who managed steady them both before they crashed. "Sorry." Rachel slurred, suddenly unsure if it was the alcohol or the apprehension that had thickened her tongue.

"Oh, no. Don't worry about it. Oop, You're Rachel, right?" She asked, not really interested in a verbal response considering she already knew the answer. "Did you and Scott get here okay?"

Rachel's eyebrow twitched upwards involuntarily. _She doesn't really want to know. Does she? "_Yeah, yeah. Fine. I mean, there was this awkward moment before we left when Devin called him my boyfriend and I had to deny it. That isn't rude is it? I mean, Scott _isn't_ my boyfriend so he wouldn't be offended by that, right?"

They were innocent questions but Allison couldn't help but shift her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she listened to the girls drunken rambles. Scott was a sensitive subject for her and somewhere deep down Rachel knew that. "I'm sure it's fine but I-I've really got to get back to the door, Lydia will kill me if I don't live up to her hostess standards." She breathed, "It was nice to talking to you."

"You, too." Rachel lied, letting the girl slip out of sight before continuing to stumble her way upstairs, a highly preferred alternative to tumbling down them. Three and a half stairs high she lost her heels and whatever bit of confidence she had left from the beginning of the party. Scott had vanished hours ago along with the last remnants of the buddy system. Frazzled from the climb she searched for a place to rest rattling knobs attached to various doors along the way. The probability of one of them being unlocked had been statistically in her favor near the launch of the pursuit but dwindled drastically with each unsuccessful tug. Lydia had the second floor locked up tight, probably for a good reason. No one wanted to a plan a party, play the hostess, AND deal with Greenburg in their bed. Staying at Deaton's would have been the smartest decision, she had a bed to hide in there, but until then there was a moderately comfortable looking corner calling her name.

Pressing her back against the wall she slid to the ground letting her head fall after landing with a soft thud. _I could've just stayed home._ She scolded, burying her face in her arms. It wasn't until the sound of footsteps closed in that she bothered to look up. Sliding down to the ground beside her was the crooked jawed boy deemed MIA only a couple hours prior, "I've been looking everywhere for you." He breathed, his face a concoction of alcohol, apologies, and relief.

"Well, congratulations you found me." She praised. "And you're only an hour too late to save me from myself."

Scott laughed, "I'm sure you didn't do anything _too _awful."

The sound of Rachel's scoff lingered as the wall and the boys shoulder became an interchangeable place to rest her head, "Actually, I killed everyone." She informed him, sinking into his side with a shrug.

The heat of his skin was warmer than most and she tried not to be too distracted by the sensation when Scott started talking again. "I didn't know you were so dangerous." He'd muttered lazily but it was obvious that his attention was just as focused as his wandering eyes.

"There are lots of things you don't know about me, Scott." The words fell from her lips like a line from some cheesy tween drama series and she laughed at herself almost immediately afterwards. "I should probably burn the notes Devin gave me on talking to guys." Her voice was almost a whisper now but it still felt too loud for the moment. Maybe she shouldn't have been talking at all, she really didn't know. What she did know was how intense his gaze had become and she wondered if he knew how hard he was staring.

For a minute things stayed silent, Rachel biting softly on her bottom lip unaware of the increase in Scott's heart rate. "Did you at least enjoy the party before you killed everyone?" the question seemed inorganic and forced and suddenly it was Scott who was pulling out notes on what to say.

"When I wasn't required to deny that there's anything going on between us. People seem really concerned about what you're doing in your spare time." She answered, "But don't worry. I made sure to make the assumption seem really ridiculous so no one would ask again."

"They'll ask again." He assured her.

"How do you know?"

"Because they're teenagers. The only thing more interesting than their own issues are other people's."

Rachel let her mind drift back to the party beneath them when the music rattled a group of family portraits hanging halfway away. The longer she stared at them the more inanimate they felt, like the people smiling behind the glass didn't really exist; hung for decoration more than sentiment. It almost would have been creepy had she not been nuzzled so comfortably into Scott's side. The boy didn't seem to have any intentions of rejoining the crowd as he let his face brush against her dark hair taking in a deep breath of what smelt like fresh flowers and mint. It was refreshing and comforting in ways he didn't bother questioning; he was too far gone to scold himself for taking advantage of the hold alcohol had on him.

Timid hands paused mid destination as he reached for her, golden eyes meeting his darker ones curiously as she watched his cautious movements. The presence of her heart made itself known as it fluttered against her ribs the sudden increase of adrenaline causing Scott's body to twitch forward in the slightest. "Do it." Her words fell in the form of a whisper as she challenged him, forcing him to close the remaining space between them as their lips came crashing together. Alcohol had blocked off most rational thoughts in an attempt to let instinct take over but Rachel still felt awkward being at Scott's mercy. This was still the same goofy, crooked smiling, seventeen year old boy that she'd met at the beginning of the summer but something was different now. His entire demeanor had shifted from harmless to borderline animalistic.

The way he nipped and sucked at her bottom lip while his hands made their own decisions was impressive and Rachel found that she was having trouble keeping up. Scott wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer before returning to his exploration his hand eventually finding its way to her chest. The sensation caught her off guard and she let out an involuntary whimper that caused his body to tense. With the last of her worries cast aside she finally found a purpose for her own hands as they pressed against Scott's chest slowly working their way down until she'd reached the waistband of his khakis. She caught herself debating what to do next, vodka or no vodka the logical part of her brain was still verbal enough to remind her that this probably wasn't a good idea. Unfortunately she never got to make that final decision.

"Scott!" Allison's voice was unmistakable and it snatched the boy's attention without fail.

Breaking away from Rachel's lips he seemed to find sanity. Overwhelming guilt replaced whatever he'd been feeling moments earlier as he stood to face her. "Allison, wait!" he called barely acknowledging the girl he'd left on the ground before chasing after the other one. Any member of Beacon Hills High could have predicted the outcome, it was like playing with fire and expecting not to get burned, but Rachel was a little dazed by how quickly she could be discarded.

"Yep, okay. That's fine." The halfhearted words of comfort didn't do much to help her as she tried desperately to find her feet again.

"Dead body? What?" Stiles nearly ran her over as he flew up the stairs to investigate just what it was that had Scott and Allison darting in the opposite direction. "Oh, man, Rachel what are you doing up here in the dark.. all by yourself?"

"Oh you know!" She exclaimed nearly toppling over as she waved her shoes around dramatically. For a second it seemed like she'd actually forgotten the answer her gaze narrowing to focus in on the boy's face. "Why _weren't _you?"

Stiles reached out to stabilize her when she tried to take another step forward, "That means you saw what made Allison freak!" He deducted. A master detective Stiles was or at least he liked to think so. Rachel just shifted awkwardly under the pressure unsure of what to say. All this attention was starting to make her nauseas or maybe it was the vodka.

"She freaked? Whaaaaaa? I just thought she remember she had an appointment or something. People remember important things at the most inopportune times." She rambled. "Or maybe she felt like she was going to be sick. I can relate. Or maaaybe—"

"-that wasn't Allison's _I forgot something important _face. That was straight up dead body or-" Stiles tried interjecting.

"Maybe," Rachel persisted, speaking almost as slowly as she was walking, "Or maaaybe it had something to do with seeing Scott and I in the middle of a liplock. I don't know. I'm not a mind reader." It wasn't until she was a step below Stiles that she dropped the important information. Strategically speaking it should have been easier to escape that way but she foolishly forgot to factor in how difficult running was under the influence.

The whites of Stiles eyes had never been more visible and if Rachel hadn't of been standing with her back to him she might've been concerned. Instead she kept creeping forward towards the exit on unnecessary tiptoes. "Ooooh, this is bad." A gust of wind and relief was all she felt when he zoomed past her to go find the others. Now all she needed to do was make it to the back door and- "Come on!" He was back just as fast as he'd left his fingers wrapping around Rachel's wrist to drag her along.

As soon as they'd reached the front door Lydia was making her way back to it. There was a scowl cemented on her lips that was unmistakably direct, "You've been here for one week, Kendrick!" her manicured finger was pointed elegantly but it didn't lighten the weight of its accusation. "How someone could have already managed to cause a teenage catastrophe in their first week of arriving is beyond me. If I weren't so annoyed by my unfortunate connection to those involved I'd congratulate you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a party to tend to." Hands on her hips she sashayed back inside pausing for a moment to repoint at the accused, "I'm fully expecting that you'll have this sorted by Monday? Despite what my continuous above average achievements might suggest I'm just one woman."

It was safest just to agree, Rachel was scared that Lydia would never stop pointing at her if she didn't. Three nods wasn't exactly the guarantee the redhead had been looking for but it would have to do, she had too much going on to deal with other people's messes. "She's kinda scary sometimes."

"I know." Stiles sighed, "Isn't it great?" The look in his eyes was pure admiration as they followed her into the crowd. It took him awhile to realize that Rachel wasn't by his side anymore when he finally snapped back to reality but he found her pretty easily planted on the front steps of the Martin manor, shoes still in hand. "Aw, cheer up, Rach. It can't get any worse."

Rachel's head rolled lazily in his direction with a sour look that said otherwise, "Scott was my ride."

He let out a low whistle before giving her his best '_I know this is a shitty situation but it's totally gonna blow over eventually'_ grin. He'd had a lot chances to practice that one. "Easily rectified, m'lady." He assured before digging through his pockets and retracting a pair of keys which he held up with pride. "The Stilinski Express at your service. It'll take you anywhere you wanna go as long as there's minimal risk of decapitation, amputation, or laceration."

"Is asphyxiation a no-go or is that one of those grey areas?" She slurred the word asphyxiation but Stiles still had to give her points for her drunk vocabulary. Taking the hand he extended she hoisted herself into a standing position, readjusted her dress, and attempted to keep up with the one sided conversation he was having with himself as he lead the way to his Jeep and her ticket home.


	6. The Art of Apologizing While Hungover

**Author's Notes:/ Heey-o again, lovelies. I do not own Teen Wolf, I wish I did. **

**Thank you for reading along on this journey to self discovery for a young girl in Beacon Hills. I hope you're enjoying the ride. **

**Please keep all hands and feet inside the cart for fear of being bitten. Unless you're into that sort of thing. ;3**

* * *

**B**y lunch time on Monday it had become increasingly obvious that the only thing Rachel had considered important enough to spend her time on during the weekend was nursing the world stopping hangover she'd earned. Everything else, including Scott and Allison, had fallen to the wayside. Twenty-four hours was more than enough time for someone to calm down and become reasonable again so there was no _way_ things hadn't sorted themselves out in over forty-eight. That was the logical approach to the situation, so you can imagine Rachel's surprise when Monday afternoon threw not only a pop quiz in Calculus but an extremely fiery Lydia her way.

"You! You said you'd have this mess cleaned up by Monday. You agreed to the terms and conditions." Rachel had managed to dodge the monogramed pen being pointed at her face on reflex but she wasn't so lucky when it came to escaping the lecture that followed. "Allison still isn't speaking to Scott which not only means that our slightly dysfunctional group is even more dysfunctional than usual but also that we've been forced to split ourselves down the middle according to which member of the arguing party we've chosen to ally with. That means that instead of spending the lunch period working on my preemptive extra credit project for AP Psychology like I'd originally planned I'm going to be required to accompany Allison off campus while Stiles and Isaac help Scott blow off steam on the lacrosse field."

"And where am I supposed to go?"

"Should've thought of that this weekend when you were _supposed_ to be apologizing."

To answer her own question, Rachel spent lunch sitting at the same table she always did, only it lacked its usual suspects and left her alone. A freshman from her gym class had bravely considered occupying the emptiness but swiftly reconsidered when the older girl glared up from her tray. There was no real point in being angry about her circumstance but there was something incredibly bothersome about being held solely accountable for something that wasn't even worth being upset over in the first place. The entire situation was being blown way out of proportion.

"You really should just apologize."

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Scott _blow off steam_?" She bit, swallowing down the bitterness of her words when Isaac's eyes grew wide. "Sorry." He wasn't the one who deserved her irrational hostility even if he was indirectly elongating the problem by tolerating its absurdity.

Shrill bells alerted them that feeding time was over which meant that the punishment of forced solitude had been lifted. Tossing a nearly untouched lunch of cardboard pizza into the nearest trashcan she set off towards the art building for Photography Isaac on her heels. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do." He promised whilst weaseling his way between her and the classroom door, "But I will say that apologizing is the easiest way out of this. For everyone."

"What am I even apologizing for?! No, you know what, fine. I'll apologize. But I don't wanna hear any commentary if it's shitty." She finally surrendered watching as the boy threw up his hands noncommittally before rounding the building with a smile. Now she'd have to spend the rest of the day trying to craft a tolerable apology and finding some way to sound like she actually meant it.

It was two classes later in AP Lit when she finally decided to just "wing it". There was an impassable lump in her throat by the time she caught sight of Allison near the parking lot after school. It looked like she'd been discussing something pretty in depth with Lydia but the redhead quickly dismissed herself at the sight of the brunette. With one last deep breath and a chain of indistinguishable mumbles Rachel called out to the dark haired girl watching as she twirled around hesitantly. Game time. "Look, Allison, I'm sorry that you're upset. You shouldn't have had to see that. Honestly if it hadn't been for the life crippling social awkwardness I've developed thanks to years of homeschooling causing me to kickback drinks like an alcoholic you wouldn't have. I jus—"

"—got drunk at a party and kissed a boy. I get it. Besides, Scott doesn't belong to me." Allison interrupted her mid apology a small smile forcing itself onto her face as she relayed the hallow words. Scott may not have been her possession anymore but that sure didn't mean she'd relinquished her claim. "But thanks for apologizing anyways. It was nice."

And that's when it clicked; Rachel may not have known much about high school or teenage behavior but she did know a thing or two about the ways of the wild. Allison hadn't been so upset that she needed consolation, she needed submission. She wanted her to understand that messing with Scott was unacceptable and that doing so would result in consequences. Consequences like having her new found position in the group eradicated. But starting a war at the end of a battle was never a smart strategy, so instead she just smiled and said, "No problem." Allison pulled her into a quick hug to solidify their rekindled friendship before waving goodbye and climbing into the passenger's seat of her father's vehicle. It was the first time Rachel had ever seen Mr. Argent but she had a gut feeling it wouldn't be the last. Flashing him the protocol "parent greeting" grin she was on her way, readjusting the strap on her backpack before starting down the street that would lead her home.

It wasn't until she'd made it halfway there that she decided to double back and take a different route entirely. This specific route took her past the Veterinary Clinic where should both check in with Deaton, who'd been giving her the cold shoulder ever since Stiles had to practically carry her to bed, and assess the damage with Scott. It had been difficult to admit that Allison wasn't the only one avoiding her but by the end of the day she was nothing more than ready to have it all over with. The chiming bell dangling above the entrance warned both parties of her presence which meant that Scott would have time to hide. Wasting no time she maneuvered her way to the back through the empty lobby and into the examination room.

"Isn't there something that you should be studying at home?" Deaton wasn't one for wasting time either. Back turned he continued to pull miscellaneous bottles from the cabinets above his head. Popping the cork from a cylindrical tube he sniffed the contents grabbing a pen from his pocket to scribble something illegibly across the label. The quickest way to teach Rachel a lesson was to shut her out, it always had been, but one glimpse at the damaged girl had broken him down. "Scott's in the back."

Alan had made it very clear the morning after the party that he wasn't angry. Anger didn't solve problems, instead he had used the word _disappointed_, which everyone knew was worse. That was the same card her dad used to pull whenever he'd catch her sneaking out into the woods. Maybe he'd been given notes. Following the barks and whimpers of bruised and broken dogs she eventually found Scott. Sneaking up on him was pointless, he'd known she was there since she'd reached the end of the street, so watching him pretend to be too focused on pouring dog food to notice her was somewhat comical. Going along with the charade she crept up behind him to get an up close and personal look at the panic in his eyes. "Oh, hey! Did Deaton call you in to help 'cause I'm leaving early?"

"No but you're an awful liar." She deadpanned. Eventually Scott stopped zigzagging around the kennel and submitted to her. "So, you gonna tell me why you aren't talking to me?"

Scott instantly found something more interesting on the ground to focus on as he mulled over the question. Brows furrowed he rubbed at the back of his neck, "It's just.. you're kinda weird."

"Says the werewolf."

"No! I just mean.. I can't tell if you're mad at me or not."

The soft chuckle that slipped past her lips finally gained his full attention and he kept his eyes on her as she hopped onto the countertop. "Mad? I mean, all you did was kiss me, then run off to chase after your ex-girlfriend leaving me drunk at a party full of people I barely knew. I'm lucky you weren't my ride. Oh wait." She tilted her head to the side a bit as she pumped her legs back and forth watching Scott shrink with every accusation, "but I'm not mad. I was never mad."

"You weren't?" He breathed.

Shaking her head she smiled, "Anger doesn't solve problems, Scott. And you just so happen to be my closest friend. I mean, I didn't particularly _enjoy_ being heartlessly abandoned after my first kiss but I'm a pretty tough girl and Stiles was nice enough to take me home. Even if he didn't stop talking all the way there."

"He does that." Scott countered before pausing to recollect. "I really am sorry about—"

Rachel waved both hands in the air frantically to cut off the apology before it could fully form. "Forget it ever happened. We're friends, Scott. Pals." The palm of her hand made abrupt contact with his back as she attempted to execute a platonic gesture between bros, grimacing at her own existence when Scott burst into laughter.

"Just help me feed the dogs." He said, tossing the bag of dog food at her with a grin.


	7. Over the Fence and through the Backyard

**Authors Notes: Generic disclaimer stating I own nothing from chosen fandom.**

**Thank you a million times for reading along. :3**

* * *

**T**he next month or so swept by pretty uneventfully. In fact, most days things could even be considered "good". Building real life relationships proved much less difficult than Rachel had anticipated. She spent a few afternoons watching Stiles & Scott gear up for lacrosse season, exploring the sylvan stretches of Beacon Hills, consuming snacks unfit for human digestion and working diligently to secure a future arthritis treatment by of Xbox 360.

She'd survived a handful of brief yet awkward conversations with Alison and found herself increasingly called to court by Lydia. The praise-filled, doe eyed gaze of other girls were all but lost on Rachel. She may not have completely understood why the domineering girl held such reigns over her peers, but she figured she'd done something right to be kept close, and again, Rachel was in no position to turn down friends.

But none of this stood to logic when Rachel's phone violently buzzed against the metal examination table when Lydia called for assistance.

"You want me to help you do what?"

The hustle and bustle of a shopping mall was all but audible behind the ginger girls clear, deliberate speech. "We'd be collecting," she paused, examining an emerald statement necklace, "Marks. You know, leads, cues," she wandered.

"Evidence?" Rachel interjected.

"That could be acceptable vernacular, I mean, it sounds a little desperate when you put it that way, and I'm not sure I like what you're implying, but—"

"No, no. Don't get me wrong," the brunette interrupted, studying a blunt metal object, "I'm all for a bit of freelance detective work, but what are looking for? Am I missing something? Was there a crime?"

"Crime? Possibly. A social crime. Nothing a conflict mediator could assist with, and probably nothing to get law enforcement involved with, though I have offered Sherriff Stilinski my feng shui services for his offices in exchange for an hour or so alone with his databases. That didn't work out too well, so I'm taking matters into my own hands. Are you in or out Kendrick?"

Rachel agreed of course. She couldn't just say no, not when the girl was practically begging. Or, as close to begging as Lydia Martin would ever get anyways. So she told Deaton that she'd be staying with the youngest socialite of Beacon Hills for the weekend, threw some mismatch clothes in an empty duffle bag, and set off on her way. It wasn't until she'd driven halfway to Lydia's place that her inbox flashed a message detailing new coordinates for their meeting spot. Wherever it was, Rachel had never been there before and she was starting to wonder just what kind of "crime" they were investigating.

"Lydia, who's house is this?" the question was lost on the small redhead as she stared up to the second floor in a daze. The only thing that moved was her hand signaling for her accomplice to lower the volume of her inquires; the last thing they needed was some nosey neighbor calling the police due to a _disturbance_.

There was something in the robotic way Lydia cut through the front yard and into the back that showed she was no stranger to wherever they'd landed. She shimmed through some privacy hedges, over the well kempt flowerbed previously full of violets, now full of footprints, and straight up to the frosted glass of the backdoor. It took four, or maybe it was five, calls of her name before Lydia remembered that she wasn't alone on that familiar back porch, that she'd brought a friend with her for assistance on a very important mission, but more than that it was so she wouldn't be alone. Rachel's head was poised in a way that suggested she'd asked a question but Lydia had no clue what it was. "I'm sorry, what?"

Rachel shifted uncomfortably from her place a couple steps down, "I asked if this was Jackson's house."

"Oh. Yes." Lydia answered, nodding once before digging down deep into her bag.

"Jesus Lydia, have you stopped to think that maybe the answer to this whole Jackson thing really is as simple as it looks? That maybe he did _just leave?_"

"_OF COURSE_, I have. I mean, with everyone consistently suggesting it how could I not? But I _know_ Jackson, better than anyone else in Beacon Hills, and I _know_ that he wouldn't just disappear. That isn't his style. Jackson likes to showboat too much to leave without making a proper exit." She'd spun around so fast that Rachel found herself back in the flowerbed and on top of some innocent horticultural bystanders, "No one understands that, you know." It was a statement more than a question, "No one knows what Jackson and I's relationship was underneath the picture that we painted for them. Everyone who was close to us just saw two people forcing themselves to work because it was expected, everyone else just saw flawless high school perfection but no one _knew_ anything then and they don't _know_ anything now."

Someday Lydia Martin was going to make a great presidential candidate, just because people would be too scared not to vote in her favor. No matter what she was saying it was said with conviction and it was hard not to believe someone who sounded so sure of themselves but for the first time since Rachel had been introduced to the fiery girl there was an almost untraceable amount of doubt in her speech. Lydia didn't even know if she believed herself, and everyone else knew Jackson first hand, they'd been given the opportunity to form their opinions and none of them were good.

"Stiles thinks that Jackson being gone is just one less obstacle to get to me. Allison keeps running her mouth about how I'm better off without him and Scott, well, Scott and I aren't exactly the type of friends that ask each other for favors."

Rachel wanted to ask what Jackson had done to make everyone hate him so much but she remember Scott having a hushed conversation with Stiles about "the Kanima" and Jackson's disappearance being a "good thing" one afternoon on the way to the locker room. She was smart enough to know what a Kanima was and if a creature like that had been tied into Jackson's leaving than maybe it really had been a _good thing_. Lydia didn't feel the same.

"I didn't ask you here so you could tell me the same thing everyone else is, Rachel. I asked you here because there's no one else to ask. Just you. So will you help me or do I need to call a cab home after my break and entering?"

Huffing in defeat she climbed back up the stairs and waited for Lydia to fish out whatever it was she'd been digging for. "It's not really breaking and entering if you have a key anyways." She pointed out before extracting a tiny key dangling from a silver chain.

Two jiggles and a shimmy later had them crashing inside with less grace than Lydia would normally approve of but under the circumstances she just dusted off her sweater and shut the door. Rachel had been instructed to survey the lower level of the house for the usual clues; numbers, addresses, sticky notes, messages written in blood across the walls. So far nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just the usual leather furniture and Persian rugs. The layout was more modern than Lydia's mansion but it was equally stunning in a sleeker way. The fridge had been cleared of any knick-knacks or memorabilia, no report cards or family pictures, just cold, shiny, stainless steel reflecting a distorted version of her in its doors. Opening them tentatively she let the florescent light bathe the rest of the kitchen and illuminate her search.

There was nothing. It was like one of those display houses that realtors presented prospective buyers to showcase how much _potential_ the house had to be the _perfect family home_. "And can't you just _INVISION _little Timmy— 'It's Tommy'—Little Tommy eating his cinnamon-nut oatmeal quietly at the breakfast nook while you kiss your husband and send him off to work in your one-of-a-kind mud room just a foot away!" Rachel was having a conversation with herself as she bobbed and weaved around mockingly robotic. "Well, actually, my husband just got laid off yesterday and Tommy has a fatal nut allergy with a slight case of ADHD but at least we'll have a separate room for the coats. That's all that really matters."

Dropping her arms back to her sides she darted up the stairs to fill Lydia in on all the nothing she'd found. After wandering through a few empty rooms she eventually discovered the missing girl, curled up on a bed with her back turned to the door, a pillow clutched to her chest. Rachel didn't have the heart to speak up until the phone rang and even then she didn't speak she just screamed causing Lydia to roll backwards two inches away from face planting. Without thinking she reached for the phone on the nightstand, jumping when Lydia swatted it away. "Don't answer it." She hissed.

"Well it was ringing!" Rachel shot back.

Both girls paused as the harsh beep of the answering machine alarmed them of an upcoming voicemail. Taking two steps at a time they made it back to the first floor to hear the message loud and clear, "This is ADT Home Security and we've been alerted of the intrusion in this home. The police have already been notified and are on their way."

"Oh come on!" the outcry was mostly a growl but all intimidation was lost when the back door burst open to let the cops in. The ginger just rolled her eyes and placed her hands in the air compliantly as they were blinded with flashlights and given way too many orders to follow at once; hands behind your back, hands above your head, don't move, follow me, but not a one of them said Simon says. Rachel decided to keep her witty commentary an internal monologue on the way to the Police Station.


End file.
